


We'll Collect The Moments One By One

by blanchtt



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8532058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanchtt/pseuds/blanchtt
Summary: A collection of Punky Monkey Christmas AUs.





	1. Canceled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “i know we hate each other but it’s christmas eve and your flight was cancelled please come inside”

 

 

 

The morning has been graciously silent, and Cosima's in what she could definitely call a fantastic mood as she gets her things together, grabs her bag and keys and slips on a coat to go buy a last minute bottle of wine before the stores start closing early for Christmas. Cosima smiles to herself, locks the door behind herself and heads towards the stairs - a quiet night, low-key morning, and still nothing. Honestly, she can't remember the last time this happened. She heads down the apartment’s stairs because _why not_ , down two floors with a skip in her step, and gets to the lobby when she stops dead in her tracks because _oh no_. 

 

There’s a heartbeat where she’s unsure whether to keep walking or turn on her heels and head right back up the stairs, and it ends in her wobbling forward a step, heel squeaking on the floor, stuttering, " _Uh_ ," quite loudly, and That Girl turning to look at her. 

 

It's That Girl - the one down the hall, the one that plays her punk rock music so damned loud at two in the morning which is _peak study time_ , for crying out loud. She either heard or saw her out of the corner of her eye, and Cosima watches as That Girl turns around from where she’s standing in the lobby, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and a phone in one hand. 

 

That Girl gives her a grumpy look - although maybe she just always looks like that - and Cosima wonders how you could possibly look so cranky just _standing_ there. But somehow, even looking pissed as hell and ready to punch someone in the face, Cosima can’t help but notice the wet lashes, the way That Girl sniffs loudly, and she must be devastated or some shit because That Girl's voice cracks as she rasps, "Was gonna finally get to see my kid, but the flight's canceled.” That Girl motions with her phone, and a bitter smile tugs at her mouth. “Too much snow or somethin’."

 

The resentment that’s built up over months and months of pounding on the walls late at night, the noise complaints to the landlord that might as well have gone into the circular file, after attempt after attempt at banging on her door and getting her to answer so she can personally tell her to turn it down or go to hell - it slips away like water, and Cosima smiles wanly.

 

“I was going to run and get some Chardonnay for later,” she explains, pointing at the lobby door with both hands, because damn, that is sad, and what better way to spend Christmas alone in a new city than to get drunk with someone else having an equally shitty day. “And you look like you need a glass. Care to join me once I get back?”

 

 

 


	2. Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “i got you for secret santa so i got you this really expensive but sentimental gift that you’ve always wanted, hoping you’ll never find out it’s from me - and that i’ve been in love with you 1234567 years”

 

 

 

 

Company-wide Secret Santa exchanges are bullshit. Secret Santa exchanges in _general_ are bullshit, but DYAD’s everyone-in-the-company-is-a-valued-member-of-the-team Secret Santa exchange takes the bloody cake. 

 

It’s why, even working in the Starbucks down in the lobby which is technically not part of DYAD despite being _in_  the DYAD building, Sarah gets to slip the folded up Post-It into the back pocket of her jeans, gets to watch Alison from accounting take her Santa hat and move onto her next victim, urging Krystal to pick a name. 

 

Out of everyone in the company, she’s managed to pick Cosima Niehaus. Sarah grits her teeth against the smile that threatens to break out, because she’s got to play it cool but it’s bloody hard to do so right now. Out of all the white-collar pricks at this company, Cosima’s the only one who says hello to her every morning, who apologizes for her insanely specific order, who chats her up until the line behind her starts to grumble and shuffle. Sarah’s not a rocket science, but she knows the odds of this working out in her favor are about… well, a billion to one sounds about right. 

 

Which - back to the bullshit part. The initial disbelief washes away in a wave of insecurity, and Sarah snaps back to reality as the line moves forward, as she takes the next order, rings them up, scribbles something down on a venti cup. What in the world can she, the biggest mess around, get Cosima that Cosima, a bloody genius doctor at DYAD, doesn’t already have? A Starbucks card off the counter? A supercomputer?

 

Krystal sidles up to her, leans in close enough for Sarah to get a whiff of coffee and perfume and take a step back, and snatches the cup that Sarah hands her. “I got Dr. Leekie,” she hisses, tone laced with panic, and, admittedly, there are probably worse positions Sarah can be in. At least she and Cosima were born in the same century. “I am, like, _so_ screwed!”

 

“Sounds like we both are, mate.”

 

 

-

 

 

It is a very lovely gesture to be even invited, Felix tells her, so don’t cock it up - and so Sarah trudges to work and through the snow to the holiday party. The execs probably hold a more lavish one, somewhere downtown where the valet alone costs more than she makes in a day, but this one’s at DYAD which coincides nicely with being not too far of a walk from home if it turns out to be truly horrible and she wants to get smashed before leaving.

 

She gets there, sheds her coat at the door and makes sure to take the little present with her as she throws herself into the sea of people mingling. 

 

They’re mostly doctors, scientists, what-have-you, all working on some super-secret shit that, frankly, Sarah would rather keep her nose out of if she wants to stay awake. Medical something or other, ’s all she knows from Wikipedia. She’s never gotten past - never tried to - the lobby to the elevators. What goes on in the rest of the building is largely a rather boring mystery.

 

She narrows her eyes, keeps watch for that familiar face, and after about fifteen minutes finally hears Cosima before she sees her. 

 

Cosima’s speaking with another doctor or something, a youngish man with glasses who, oddly, takes one look at her approaching the two of them and seems to break off his conversation quickly with Cosima. 

 

Sarah catches the incredibly obvious thumbs-up he gives Cosima as he leaves, and Sarah grins as she watches Cosima turn around, face pink.

 

Whatever’s just transpired between them seems to be replaced very quickly with surprise, and Cosima’s eyes go wide as she smiles. “Wow,” Cosima says, reaching out, and, alright, that’s how it’s going to be apparently. Sarah accepts the hug, keeps her hands placed light and polite high on Cosima’s back, and takes a step back as they part. “Hey, Sarah. I hardly recognized you.”

 

“Uh, thanks,” Sarah says, and reaches up to run her free hand through her hair. Thank the lord for Felix and his meddling in her hair, her make-up, her dress selection. How he got a little black dress on such short notice, she’s afraid to ask. She grins, admits, “Felix wanted to straighten it and I couldn’t keep him away.”

 

Cosima smiles again, something about it striking Sarah as different, more relaxed, and she plays with the stem of her wineglass as she takes a rather long look at her. If anyone else were to do so, they’d be asking for a sock to the jaw. But Cosima’s once-over, the way she bites her lip in thought, only makes Sarah feel a mixture of warmth and confidence, and she does owe Krystal ten bucks (how does a straight woman have better gaydar than her?) because if Cosima’s not a lesbian, then she’s sending out some bloody confusing signals.

 

“It looks nice,” Cosima says finally, approvingly. “You look nice.”

 

Sarah grins back before perfunctorily holding out the little package she’s brought. “Thank you,” she replies, and although Cosima looks lovely as well in a tight red dress, she can follow up on that in a variety of different ways depending on how the present’s received. “Here you go. I’m your Secret Santa.”

 

“Sweet! I got Alison,” Cosima says, and she takes the package in one hand, balances holding her wineglass without spilling in the other as she smiles and rips into it. “She really liked the pencil holder I got her.”

 

The limit had been something like fifteen dollars according to Alison’s email, but she’d gone over. All the doctors and scientists look the same walking into DYAD, street clothes hidden each morning and night under coats or lab coats. She hasn’t much to go off of other than her own observations, which have been:

 

  1. Cosima works at DYAD
  2. Cosima orders a soy chai tea latte each morning with a dash of extra cinnamon
  3. Cosima always has at least one necklace, two bracelets, and three rings on, minimum



 

And so Cosima holds up the ring, smile bigger than it’s been all night, and Sarah motions at it, explaining, “Figured you could use another one, you know. For variety.”

 

“I love it,” Cosima laughs, slipped it on a bare finger. Sarah’s happy Scott hasn’t steered her wrong - it seems to fit perfectly, a dark-gold ring with a chunky crystal set in it just the type of thing Cosima might like but not already own. “Thank you, Sarah,” she says, and Sarah smiles back, feels the nails of her fingers dig into her own palm as she pauses.

 

That’s probably it, isn’t it? Say you’re welcome and move along, chitchat, get shitfaced, leave, wake-up, repeat. Do not embarrass yourself in front of your co-worker. Sort-of co-worker. And so Sarah nods, the silence between them growing as she searches for the perfectly calculatedly blasé thing to say before slipping away - but Cosima opens her mouth, holds out a hand as if to keep her from walking away, and fairly blurts, “Would you like to go out sometime for coffee?” 

 

What she’s just asked must dawn on her, because Cosima purses her lips, shakes her head, and grins as she clarifies, “It doesn’t have to be here,” she adds with a laugh, hands fluttering to motion vaguely around them to their work setting. “Or coffee. I bet you’re tired of coffee. I mean - ”

 

“Yeah,” Sarah interrupts, and grins as Cosima smiles at her gratefully. It's really that easy? Christ, she should have done this _months_ ago. “Yeah," Sarah repeats, and the excitement like when she'd first picked Cosima's name out of the hat a month ago bubbles up again, obvious and irrepresible. "I’d like that.” 

 

Another pause settles between them, but this one not so long as Cosima smiles again, reaches out, deposits her wineglass on a nearby table and picks up another two before offering one to Sarah. "So, you here with anybody in particular?" Cosima asks with a raised brow, and Sarah takes the glass, steals a sip before answering cooly. 

 

"No. Didn't figure I'd stay that long."

 

Cosima _hmms_  thoughtfully, slips closer, links their free arms together, and grins conspiratorially before raising her own wineglass to her lips, and Sarah gets the immediate and overwhelming feeling that they're about to get in a large amount of trouble in the next hour or so.  _You're like two peas in a pod_ , she can almost hear Felix quip dryly.

 

"Want to watch Krystal giver Dr. Leekie his gift?"

 

" _Fuck_ , yes."

 

 

 


	3. Burnt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “hi we’re neighbours and omg are you alright i could smell cooking/burning - whoaaa now that’s just embarrassing? step aside i’ll handle this”

 

 

 

 

It’s Christmas eve and traditionally people cook, so it’s not surprising that it’s the third fire alarm that’s gone off today. 

 

“Sarah?” Felix calls from the kitchen of his new apartment, and so Sarah takes another swig of beer, sets it down on the side table, and heaves herself up off the couch. She walks over to the open window, reaches up, and grabs hold of the window, slamming it shut with a whumph. The sound of the alarm goes from ear-splitting to a more muted beeping, and Sarah turns, saluting Felix lazily before heading back to the couch.

 

“Better?”

 

“Loads.”

 

She grabs her beer and lays back, free hand behind her head. Still being on the outs with Mrs. S, there’s nothing else to look forward to today than Felix’s fantastic cooking, getting sloshed, and probably leaving for any bar still open whenever Felix’s boy-toy finally decides to make an appearance. All in all, one of the better Christmases she’s had. 

 

Except -

 

“Uh, Fe?”

 

“Shite. I smell it, too.”

 

It’s certainly not anything in his apartment that’s smoking, and so he slams something on the counter, turns, and tosses his oven mitts off. Although she’s not really the type to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong, Sarah gets up again, follows Felix as he throws open his front door and marches out into the hallway.

 

The smoke is coming from the apartment next door, which coincidentally is also where the fire alarm is coming from. He walks up to the door, knocks, and almost immediately a woman jerks open the door, looking vaguely worried.

 

“Sorry. It’s the flambé,” she explains quickly over the noise, hand motioning in the direction of what Sarah can only assume is what’s on fire, and Felix sighs heavily, reaches out and places his hands on the woman’s shoulders.

 

“Oh, darling, you need help,” Felix says, the statement definitely not a question, and Sarah watches as his neighbor’s mouth opens and shuts wordlessly, as she steps back in stunned helplessness as Felix barrels inside.

 

Sarah clears her throat, speaking up over the commotion and shrugs. “Can I come in?” It’s mostly politesse at this point - why not make a good impression? The woman’s cute, although judging from the smoke and noise and Felix's muttering as he puts out fires (literally), she's probably a terrible cook. Sarah holds out her hand, nods toward Felix as the woman takes it. “I’m Sarah, and that’s my brother, Felix.”

 

The woman smiles gratefully, shakes with one hand and adjusts her glasses with her other hand, pushing them up the bridge of her nose. She's not Sarah's usual type, but the geek chic look works on her.  “I’m Cosima - ”

 

“Sarah, you silly tit, don’t just stand there batting your eyelashes at pretty girls!" Felix bellows, and Sarah grits her teeth, makes a mental note to murder him later as Cosima cracks another smile. Sarah takes a step away, heads inside, and wonders if it's at all possible to come back from such a shite introduction. "Go open the bloody window while I take care of the fire!”

 

 

 

With everything finally under control, they stand around Cosima's kitchen, Felix fixing his hair in the reflection of Cosima's refrigerator and Sarah shrugging off her leather jacket, overheated from fanning a dishtowel at the fire alarm to dispel the smoke. They're probably all going to smell like a bonfire for Christmas. Fantastic. Cosima moves around the kitchen, seeming to look for something, and asks over her shoulder, "Is there anything I can do to thank you?” Cosima pauses, shoves a few cookbooks to one side and reaches around to a wine rack. “Do you want a drink?”

 

“No, we've got it,” Felix says decisively for them both. He flicks his head, apparently happy with his hair, and smiles at Cosima as she turns back around. “But I think your dinner is ruined.” _Oh, shite._ She knows where this is going and Sarah opens her mouth to cut him off from saying anything else embarrassing, but Felix grins at Cosima, holds out his hand and places it over Sarah’s mouth. “Luckily I always make extra for my dear sister, and I'm sure she'd be _delighted_ if you'd come join us.”

 

Sarah reaches up, shoves Felix off of her with a scowl and just as quick turns and smiles politely at Cosima. “Please distract me from him and his boyfriend mooning over each other all night,” Sarah pleads, and hears Felix scoff in disbelief. But that’s really not the sound she focuses on, because Cosima laughs softly, smile big as she grabs a bottle of wine to bring with her.

 

“How can I say no to that invitation?”

 

 

 


	4. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> person a seducing person b into taking a few steps back/backing them against the wall (”oh look, how did that mistletoe get right there????”)  

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

It’s long after dinner, drinks, the party; long after everyone else has gone home, the house has gone quiet and still; long after she’s put Kira to bed and Fe’s taken off to wherever he goes on holidays and Mrs. S has retreated to her room to read. But they’ve stayed curled up on the couch, limbs twined together, finger interlaced, warm and comfortable under the thick blanket.

 

It feels as if no time at all has passed, that it's as natural as breathing, to be with Cosima - someone who gets it and gets _her_ , someone who's willing to see more than the facade she puts out, someone who always watches her with bright eyes, a smile, who no matter what the subject sits forward with her elbows on her knees and chin propped on her hands in rapt attention and deep thought.

 

And so the time has passed them both by - they’ve run out of cocoa, the fire’s low, and their conversation has trailed off to a natural end. Something hums under her skin, their touches only teasing so far, and so Sarah squeezes the fingers that clasp hers, nuzzles against Cosima’s cheek before pressing a slow, sloppy kiss against fair skin. “I gotta set out the presents for Kira,” Sarah says reluctantly, not keen to move, and Cosima gives a murmur of assent, tilts and catches Sarah’s lips in a quick kiss before starting to sit up.

 

“I can help,” Cosima offers, and Sarah sits back, brushes the blanket away and nods.

 

“Yeah, alright.” It’s something for _her_ kid and usually she and Felix and Mrs. S do it all together, and she doesn’t want Cosima to ever feel like she's obligated to do anything. But she’s never been one for tradition and Cosima likes to help, and so Sarah stands, stretches, feels the hem of her shirt slip up, and tugs it back down. Even if no one else is around, there’s no need to advertise how they’ve been keeping warm this whole time. She looks sideways, watches Cosima watching her, and nods again. “Thanks.”

 

Cosima shrugs the blanket off, stands, reaches and sweeps her dreds to the side with a barely-concealed yawn. “Where’d you hide them?” she asks, looking around and ready to get down to business, although she squints in the low light. “Coat closet?”

 

“Too predictable,” Sarah says dryly, and motions upstairs. “I stuffed 'em in the linen closet.”

 

“I _definitely_ wouldn’t have looked there,” Cosima teases, sticking out her tongue, and Sarah grins back at her, turns and starts to head for the stairs and hears Cosima start to follow behind her.

 

“Yeah, well, Mrs. S keeps a tight ship,” Sarah explains over her shoulder, reaching out to rest her hand on the banister as she reaches the stairs. “Not many places to hide shite around here. I would know.”

 

It's funny, isn't it? Her spotty past is often the butt of humor, but Cosima makes no noise behind her, and Sarah wonders if her little joke’s fallen flat. She shrugs to herself as she takes a step up. 

 

But quite suddenly a hand clasps hers, and Sarah thinks at first that it’s only Cosima wanting to hold hands as they walk up the stairs together. But Cosima doesn’t _move_ , and Sarah comes to a stop, turns to look over her shoulder, and honestly, _what_ the bloody hell. Playing around on the stairs in socks is the opposite of a good idea. Even she knows that.

 

But Cosima is watching her with a heavy look, biting her bottom lip, and only good things come from _that_ look, so Sarah follows the tug Cosima gives her and takes a step down, eye to eye with her as she steps back down onto the floor.

 

Hands grasp her hips and pull her close as Cosima kisses her, zero to one-hundred in two seconds, and Sarah settles her arms around Cosima’s shoulders, appreciates the press of their bodies as Cosima’s tongue swipes at her bottom lip. It should hardly surprise her – the evening spent close together, wandering hands slipping under shirts. When Cosima is wound up, she tends to stay that way for quite some time. Sarah parts her lips, meets Cosima with the brush of her tongue, and can’t stifle the groan it produces. It’s not like she’s complaining.

 

Except –

 

Cosima’s hands trail from her hips, brush low against her stomach, and fingers prick at the button of her jeans. Sarah can’t help but smirk, breaking their kiss as she reaches down, stills Cosima’s hands with her own.

 

“ _Cos_ ,” she whispers, voice nearly breaking, because suddenly it seems as if discretion is key, that the slightest misstep on the stairs could creak and give them away and bring Kira or Mrs. S to check on what is making noise so late at night – and that all battles with the rush of blood to her head, the pull low in her stomach, the look on Cosima’s face. Cosima’s skin is warm and soft under her fingertips, and Sarah brushes the pad of her thumb over the ridge of Cosima’s knuckles slowly. “Presents first.”

 

Cosima shrugs, hands sliding out from under Sarah’s as she grins and takes a step back. “Not my fault someone placed mistletoe there,” she explains with a wave of a hand upwards, and starts to make her way up the stairs. Sarah watches, the shrug and the backwards glance from Cosima, and apparently she's got Felix and his decorating kick to thank for that intense, if brief, kiss. "If you don't want to kiss me, that's cool."

 

Sarah take the stairs two at a time to catch up to Cosima, careful not to slip and break her neck because it's about the worst possible time for that to happen. She leans in close to Cosima, noses against dreds and smirks. "I wanna do more than kiss you," she drawls, voice low to keep from being overheard, and lets Cosima's surprisingly racy imagination run away with the possibilities of what exactly she'd like to do tonight. And it does the trick, because Cosima nearly misses a step, and Sarah reaches out to steady her with a hand to her shoulder. "Which is why we need to get these presents out and go to bed, yeah?"

 

"No more playing around near the stairs," Cosima only says as they reach the second floor without incident, and she turns with a sharp sweep of her kimono toward the linen closet. "I'd like to live to see Kira open the microscope I got her, and for _you_ to make good on your promise."

 

"Lookin' forward to it," Sarah smirks, and watches as Cosima turns and pokes her tongue out at her, arms full of presents that she lets Sarah help her with once she walks close enough. "Although I have to say it, Cos. You started it."

 

"The _mistletoe_ started it!"

 

 

 

 


	5. Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “you’re in the hospital for the holidays so i came in while you were sleeping to decorate your room i love you merry christmas”

 

 

 

She goes to sleep with Mrs. S and Felix and Cosima there while the nurses clean Kira up, and she wakes up quite a bit later, judging from the early morning light coming in through the window, to the sight of only Cosima at her side, curled up in a very uncomfortable position in one of the hospital chairs she’s got in her room.

 

“There’s a couch right there,” Sarah rasps, pointing, and Cosima sits up gingerly, reaching up to rearrange her now-crooked glasses. That position _can’t_ have been comfortable, and Cosima winces as she begins to stretch, thinks better of it midway through, and sits back in the chair.

 

“Yeah, but it’s not close enough to you,” Cosima replies, simple and sincere, and Sarah feels her heart swell. They’d hurried over to the hospital at two in the afternoon yesterday, and so Sarah’s sure _she_ looks like absolute shite. Cosima, however, manages to look fresh-faced and glowing even though she’s been here with Sarah every step of the way, and then some.

 

How she’s gotten lucky enough to have such a beautiful, selfless wife, she’ll never know. “Cos,” Sarah says, and Cosima must feel that same level of overwhelming happiness because she smiles back at her giddily before nudging her own chair closer and leaning toward the basinet.

 

“She’s going to hate her birth date,” Cosima says with a laugh, picking their daughter up, and it’s only then that Sarah notices the Christmas decorations strung around her tiny hospital room – strings of fuzzy tinsel, some decorative ornamental baubles, a miniature plastic Christmas tree on her bedside table, and a giant _happy birthday_ balloon tied to the arm of the spare chair.

 

“We’ll make sure to get her twice the presents,” Sarah assures her, watching fondly as Cosima sits back down, looking equal parts overjoyed and bloody _terrified_ as she cradles Kira against herself. “Did you do all this while I was asleep?”

 

Cosima hums an affirmative, watching Kira for a moment before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You were out like a light.” Cosima looks up, grinning. “What’d they give you, exactly?”

 

“Hell if I know. It’s mostly worn off,” Sarah grumbles, highly aware of the fact. She breathes in deeply, reaches up, runs the heels of her palm over her eyes, and exhales loudly. “I’m just exhausted, honestly.”

 

“Makes sense,” Cosima quips, rearranging Kira in her arms, and Sarah rolls her eyes in amusement. “Wanna take her?” Cosima asks. “She’s, uh, squirming a lot. I think.”

 

“She’s probably hungry,” Sarah says, holding her hands out expectantly, and Cosima’s eyes go wide in surprise behind her glasses.

 

“How do you know this stuff already?” Cosima asks as she stands, close enough already to hand Kira off to her without much of a reach.

 

Sarah takes Kira, looks up, and can’t help herself. “Ancient maternal instincts,” she replies, and Cosima seems to actually believe it before Sarah can’t keep her face straight any longer. With a bark of laughter, Sarah slips a side of the hospital gown down and holds Kira close. “I’m taking the piss out of you, Cos! I’m starving,” she laughs, and nods towards Kira. “Figured she would be, too.”

 

Cosima laughs, shakes her head - probably at the thought of Sarah actually picking up any scrap of spirituality from those classes she asked her to attend with her - and grabs her purse. “Message received,” Cosima jokes. “What do you want? I’ll go get us something.”

 

“From the cafeteria?”

 

“From the _real_ world. If they kick me out for bringing in contraband, tell my wife and child I loved them,” Cosima jokes, patting her pockets to make sure her phone’s there before turning to Sarah. "Pick your poison."

 

“I dunno,” Sarah replies honestly. Everyhing that’s been off limitits for the past nine months comes flooding to mind, but there’ll be time for that later and she’s not the only one hungry here, and there's still Kira's feeding to think about. “Whatever you get,” Sarah decides, because the food isn’t really the point as much as eating as a family is. "Surprise me."

 

Cosima nods and leans in close, careful to keep away from brushing against Kira, and makes to steal a kiss - or at least Sarah thinks she does. But Cosima's lips touch hers, and it's a different kind of kiss than any kind they've shared before. Slow, and soft, and reminiscent of their very first, all those years ago, but with a pool of something deeper and warmer there behind it.

 

Cosima breaks it only after a long moment, and almost reluctant to part, stays close. And Sarah understands it, and tilts toward Cosima, nudging her nose with her own as Cosima smiles and breathes -

 

"I love you, Sarah. Merry Christmas.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “YES I BOOBY TRAPPED THE PRESENTS BECAUSE YOU DO THIS EVERY FUCKING YEAR”     

                                                                                                                                                                        

 

 

They’re halfway through dinner when Cosima hears the front door being unlocked, open, and then slam shut.

 

“I’m back!” Sarah calls from downstairs, and Cosima grins at Kira, holds up her hand and makes a zipping motion in front of her mouth. It’s their secret, though all they’ve scrounged from around Mrs. S's house so far is the perfect cardboard box, and Kira grins back, repeats the motion before taking another ridiculously-huge bite of her Nutella and banana sandwich. There’s the sound of Sarah clomping around in the hallway, probably toeing off her boots, and the slam of the hall closet as she hangs up her coat.

 

“Cosima?”

 

“Up here,” Cosima calls loudly, and Kira bounces on the bed next to her, giggling. Cosima reaches out, swipes a napkin under Kira’s chin because there’s chocolate everywhere, but thankfully not on the light-pink duvet. She had no idea kids were this messy. Cute, but messy. “We’ll be right down.”

 

Cosima pops the last bite of her own sandwich in her mouth, crumples up the napkin she’s holding in her hand and shoves it in her sweater pocket as she stands, chewing. “Let’s go downstairs and say hi to your mom,” she says thickly, and offers a hand to Kira, who takes it and uses the opportunity to jump off the bed, holding Cosima’s hand with one hand and clutching her sandwich in the other. “And then we can get some milk. I forgot Nutella – ”

 

“Oi!” The word is sharp and quick, a hint of anger in it, and then, with the quick-close stomp of Sarah’s feet, comes her name bellowed up the stairs. “ _Cosima!_ ”

 

She must have learned to project from Felix, because, wow, that's loud and doesn't sound good. Cosima looks at Kira, whose smile has begun to fade, and bites her lip. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” she jokes, and Kira nods, looking up at her with big eyes. “Alright,” Cosima sighs, because Sarah can’t _actually_ be mad, and even if she is, it’s all Cosima’s fault, anyway. “Stay here, kiddo,” she says with a pat to Kira's head, and heads for the door of Kira’s bedroom. “This one’s my fault.”

 

Cosima makes her way down the stars, pops around the corner to the right once she gets to the bottom, walks down the hall, and finds Sarah standing in the kitchen, a hand on her hip and eyebrows furrowed. It is exactly the wrong moment to let Sarah know how hot she looks when she’s angry, and so instead Cosima assesses the damage: on the kitchen table is a half-loaf of bread, an open jar of Nutella with a knife sticking out of it, and two banana peels _sans_ bananas. And, most incriminatingly, her laptop.

 

“Yeah?” Cosima asks cooly, feigning innocence as she settles just out of reach of Sarah, and Sarah glares at her, mouth set in a dead line, before speaking.

 

Each enunciated word positively drips with incredulity.

 

“Were you goin’ to bloody _glitter bomb_ me?”

 

Cosima grins, feels the words come out of her mouth in a smooth lie before she almost even realizes what she’s saying. She’d counted on Sarah coming home later, on her laptop going into sleep mode once she and Kira were done looking up how to make a glitter bomb disguised, fittingly, as a Christmas present – but Sarah’s home early and the YouTube video on her screen isn’t going anywhere with the stupid laptop plugged in and charging.

 

“Uh, _no_ ,” Cosima replies, and sells it hard. _You wound me_ , and all that. She waves a hand in the air, acts like she can’t believe her own girlfriend would think she, Cosima Niehaus, would try to glitter bomb her. “No way. That’s for Scott.”

 

Sarah’s icy stare doesn’t break, but if Cosima’s learned anything from their rare but memorable fights, it's that Sarah will take any sign of backing down in a fight and _go_ for it. “Company Christmas party’s on the nineteenth,” Cosima elaborates – not a lie, although the best lies are part-truths – and then, and only then, does Sarah’s mouth quirk up at the edge, that crooked smile that Cosima loves to cause.

 

“Yeah?” Sarah drawls, a chuckle escaping at the thought, and it’s probably a better idea to give the glitter bomb gift to Scott, actually. Cosima smiles at the thought of it, and it’s easy enough to switch plans.

 

“Totally,” Cosima says, and Sarah finally moves, leans against the table and reaches out, hits play on the video. Over the sound of the instructions, Sarah watches, and then looks up at Cosima, looking _way_ too excited.

 

“Then you’ll want Mrs. S’s help. She’s scary-good at this sort of shite.”

 

 

 


	7. Cabin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we’re strictly ‘platonic’ but we’re snowed in omg we’re gonna have to repopulate the earth

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

She probably could have thought this out better. The one time she’d been to her old friend Cal’s cabin in the middle of woods was in summer. She hadn’t counted on how much snow there’d be after one little winter storm.

 

Sarah stands close to the front door, a hand up against the glass panes of its window, and even if she weren’t touching the glass she’d able to feel the cold seeping into the cabin, stealing the warmth from her breath, leaving only condensation in its wake. Luckily, they’ve stockpiled food in preparation for nothing in particular save gluttony, and they have absolutely nowhere else to be, no one else to account for. They’ve both taken the week off, Cosima to study hard in preparation for finals and Sarah to take a break from the drudgery of customer service, and so there is nothing else in the cabin to distract her except textbooks, her make-shift bed on the couch, and Cosima.

 

Said friend sidles up to her, reaches out and rests her elbow on Sarah’s shoulder, which would work better if Cosima were taller, beause all it really does it make her have to tilt her arm up in a way that can’t be comfortable. Nevertheless, Cosima leans on her lightly, stares outside in the same direction Sarah does, which Sarah knows because she does _not_ watch their reflection in the glint of the glass pane, so similar yet vastly different.

 

Cosima is beautiful, with her glasses and dreds and piercings. Cosima is smart, and funny, and just a little oblivious, and smiles way too sincerely. Cosima is and always has been touchy, a brush of a hand against her shoulder as she walks by or a little affected air kiss to her cheek as they part. And Cosima is just getting over a break-up. There’s no bloody way, Sarah tells herself – though she knows her will is far from iron – that she’s going to sacrifice her heart at the rebound altar.

 

“Looks like we’re snowed in,” Cosima says matter-of-factly, as if the idea does not bother her. Outside, there are bare trees, skeletons of the things they were in spring, bare branches heaped with snow and tall enough to obscure the grey sky. On the ground, snowdrifts promise enough matter for an entire family of snowmen, if they’d like to brave the cold to make them, and piles in white waves up against the wheels of her car parked in the once-gravel driveway.

 

Sarah grunts, crosses her arms and is thankful she brought a thick sweater, and feels Cosima’s weight dip and disappear from her shoulder as she rearranges herself and settles next to her, no longer touching. Sarah regrets the movement instantly, curses the squandered touch. _Bang-up job there seducing your love-interest, sister dear,_ she can also hear Felix say with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

 

“It’s pretty,” Cosima says dreamily, and clearly she’s not from around here. Optimist that she is, the nasty weather hasn’t gotten to her yet. “Like, romantic,” she explains with the wave of one hand, as if to say _you-know-what-I-mean-don't-you?_

 

And Sarah grins, looks sideways at her. “Freezing your arse off is romantic?” she laughs, and what she gets back is a frown from Cosima, nose scrunching as she sticks her tongue out at her.

 

_Fuck._

 

She’d crushed on Cosima hard since she’d made that tea for her at the start of the summer, and then thanked her lucky stars that her Starbucks was the closest one to campus and Cosima couldn’t start the day without a cuppa. But from what she’d gathered, the cute French foreign exchange student had snatched her up quick. A whirlwind romance, a semester and a half, and one visa snafu later, and she’d found herself comforting a heart-broken Cosima over her lunch break, feeling like a real dick for only being half-sorry her now-ex-girlfriend was out of the picture.

 

Not that she’s going to ask her out or anything now. There’s no way a genius like Cosima’d want to fool around with someone who’s _literally_ come along for the ride. In a fit of exasperation, Cosima’d mentioned getting away from it all - the _it_ presumably being her dorm, school, everything. Sarah had mentioned Cal’s cabin offhandedly, and then somehow found herself planning for a week away from civilization with a girl she'd come to know quite well through platonic coffee dates.

 

“Sure!” Cosima says excitedly, looking back outside with a thoughtful look before going quiet, and _no way,_ Sarah reminds herself. _Don’t do it, you silly twat._

 

Maybe it’s not the best thing to say, to prompt someone who’s only barely just gotten over a girl three weeks or so ago, to go on. The silence between them is fine, is comfortable, is nice – but Cosima speaking is nicer. “Yeah?” Sarah murmurs, and she nearly jumps as Cosima slips an arm around her waist, low-slung, and leans against her side again with a sigh – not tired, or exasperated, but comfortable. “How’s that?”

 

“Mmm,” Cosima hums back lazily. She holds a hand up, waves it slowly in front of them both, as if presenting the world to her in never-before-seen quality. Is that how she sees things every day? “You just have to change your perspective.”

 

“Like?” Sarah asks. And she doesn’t mean that in some smart-ass way, either. It’s just that, this whole snap your fingers and – _boom!_ – new outlook on life thing, she needs a little more guidance with instead of Just Do It™.  “Help me out here, Cos.”

 

Cosima goes quiet, nods. “Okay,” she explains after a moment, and the arm around Sarah’s waist pulls a little tighter, flush against her, their hips bumping, and Sarah feels warmth flood through her that only has to do marginally with Cosima’s body heat. “Like… I’m here with you,” Cosima explains, which Sarah does have to admit is pretty nice.

 

“And?”

 

“We’re snowed in,” Cosima states once more, and Sarah snorts.

 

“A fantastic turn of events,” she agrees. 

 

“No, but it _is_ ,” Cosima says, quick and convinced, and, not that she’s complaining, but did they just lose the hypothetical part of the scenario? “I mean, we’ll have to huddle together for warmth, strip to share body heat,” Cosima explains, a soft laugh following, a squeeze at her waist. “We might even have to repopulate the earth.”

 

And at that Sarah can feel herself go rigid under Cosima’s touch.

 

She’d been sleeping on the lumpy, pull-out couch mattress last night, curled up under her blanket, close to sleeping when Cosima had nearly scared the daylights out of her. There’d been a squeak and dip of the mattress springs, Cosima kneeling nearby when she should have been in her bed, a _Sarah_ and a _Yeah?_ and a nervous laugh and a _I didn’t know snowstorms could be this loud._

 

She’d kept her hands to herself, figuratively. They’d huddled together under the blanket, and Cosima had been the one to reach out, to take Sarah’s hands. _Your fingers are freezing_ , and Cosima’d brought them to her lips, bottom lip brushing against the knuckle of her thumb as she had blown on them jokingly before sliding closer.

 

And then, half-unbelieving that any of this was real even as it was actually happening, she’d found herself nestled between warm thighs, with Cosima’s taste on her tongue and fingers burrowed in heady heat, freezing digits clearly no longer an issue.

 

 _No way,_ Sarah had told herself herself after, Cosima dozing off against her shoulder. _Don’t do it, you silly twat. Don’t fall in love._

 

And yet, here she was.

 

It’s not silent for that long and Cosima’s too smart not to pick up on her posture. Cosima’s arm around her waist goes slack, though she doesn’t let go, voice low and apologetic. “Uh. Sorry,” she murmurs. “Too much?”

 

And Sarah snort-laughs, because Cosima says the most ridiculous things and she just can’t help it around her.

 

“I jus’ don’t want to be the one you get under to get over _her_ , Cosima.” And it’s the truth. Sarah's been there, yeah – she knows how to get hers and get out. But it’d hurt like a bitch if it were _Cosima_ , because she’s always gone into it with no strings attached, and that is the last thing she’d like to be with Cosima – no strings, a stranger, a lay. But, thankfully, there’s never been any melodrama between them, and so Sarah grins. “I thought you were up here to, I quote, isolate myself to facilitate studying.” At that, Cosima’s face, her frown, goes from tight to loose, and if anyone else regcognizes that relieved, _I-can’t-believe-I-didn’t-blow-it_ look, it’s Sarah. “And _I’m_ here because I make a mean post-all-nighter breakfast.”

 

“It’s not like that,” Cosima says, shaking her head. And Sarah can believe her, because if she's learned anything about Cosima in their time together bonding over shite coffee, it's that despite studying some ridiculously convoluted scientific theory like evolutionary development, it's that Cosima is a romantic, through and through. 

 

“Yeah?” Sarah rasps. And Cosima moves, the arm around her waist disappearing momentarily before Cosima steps in front of her, faces her. It’s not often, unless she’s working on homework, that Sarah sees Cosima look so serious.  

 

“It’s not,” Cosima repeats, and Sarah breathes out quick as Cosima reaches up, hands cradling the curve of her jaw – her fingers are cold, too, but Cosima tilts forward, and the kiss is warm enough to make up for her hands, for the cabin, for the snow outside.

 

It's everything she'd ever imagined and more - Cosima kisses soft and slow, lips a little chapped from the cold and the dryness of the air, and Sarah almost smiles at that. Almost. Instead, she reaches out blindly, settles her hands on hips and, tentatively, draws Cosima closer, and finds that Cosima hardly has to be urged. Hips notch against her own, arching up, and the moment slips easily, fluidly - a  _Sarah_  and a  _Yeah?_  and a nervous laugh and a  _I didn’t know snowstorms could be this loud -_ from sweet to heavy. Sarah parts her lips, brushes her tongue against Cosima's, and there is Cosima's taste again, different but just as delectable.

 

When they part, breathing heavy, Sarah can’t help it. “You had a thing for me since I made you that chai or what?” she asks incredulously, and Cosima rolls her eyes, laughs just a little, and steals another kiss, quick and messy, before letting go.

 

“Maybe,” Cosima says lightly, and the hands that cupped her jaw now slip down, playing with the hair at the nape of her neck. Sarah feels Cosima wrap a curl around one finger, tugging lightly before letting it unwind. “And besides," she says decisively. "I can do both.”

 

It takes Sarah a moment to realize what Cosima refers to, and she smirks. “Me and study?" she teases, because if there is also one other thing that Cosima is, it's competitive. "Not to cast aspersions on your ability to handle more than one task at a time, but I don't think you can.” She's been there herself, in too deep to think of anything else. Not even Cosima's immune to that, right?

 

But Cosima grins, all sharp teeth and tongue poking out as she leans close, and, yeah, competition is going to be Sarah's new best friend, because Cosima's hands slip down, trail past her collarbone, settle and cup and squeeze and draw a groan out of Sarah as Cosima promises, “I've got all week left. Just watch me.”

 

 

 

 


	8. Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “i live below you and i was minding my own business watching the snowfall out the window WHEN I SAW A BODY FALL ARE YOU REALLY PUTTING UP CHRISTMAS LIGHTS NOW” // “YOU DON’T LIKE MARSHMALLOWS IN YOUR HOT CHOCOLATE? WHY DO YOU HATE LOVE”

 

 

 

                                                         

She’s just settled down at the living room table to start working on her thesis again after a rather long Call of Duty break, and so when Cosima hears a thump from the near the front door, she ignores it. It’s not a knock, and with the weather it’s probably just snow hitting the big glass window or something, right? She’s really not all that sure how this _snow_ business works.

 

She opens her textbook, flips to the pages she’s stuck her pen between as a bookmark, and pulls it out, ready to work, but then there’s a _scrape_ , which is much more worrisome. Cosima looks up, purses her lip, and twirls her pen – unfortunately, the sound doesn’t stop, and is in fact followed by more scraping.

 

Okay. She's trying to make a good impression on Beth. She can’t just let someone break into her half-sister's house, especially while she’s _in_ it.

 

Beth’s a cop and her boyfriend is hardcore _something_ , and so Cosima’s sure there’s a gun here somewhere if worst comes to worst. But she finds herself walking to the door, throwing it open in annoyance, and getting hit with a blast of cold air at the same time that she sees a woman wobble on a ladder, eyes big as she starts to tip over, almost in slow motion, and then finally fall ass-first into the snow-covered bushes in front of the house.

 

“Oh my god,” Cosima breathes, more to herself as she jumps off the porch, wades through bushes and yanks the ladder out of the way, the metal burning-cold on her bare skin. The woman’s curled up in a ball in front of her, though she’s apparently trying to sitting up, and Cosima holds out a hand, lets the woman – likely not a burglar, although that remains to be seen – take her hand and use it to pull herself upright. “Are you alright?”

 

“You’re not Beth,” is all Cosima gets.

 

It’s pretty cold and she's run out in little more than pants and a sweater and Cosima can start to feel herself shiver, but she’s knocked some woman off a ladder so that takes some precedence over everything else. She withdraws her hand, watches as the woman frowns and reaches up and runs a hand through her hair, directing a mane of long, curly hair out of her face. She's either not be a robber or she’s a shit one, because who goes burgling without putting her hair back in a ponytail? Cosima crosses her arms over herself, somewhat assured that this mystery woman’s not going to pull a knife on her.

 

“Do you have a concussion?” she asks sincerely. It’s kind of her fault she’s startled her off her ladder – which, speaking of, what the hell was she doing anyway? “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

 

“I’m fine, lay off," the woman growls, scowling ungratefully, and she tries to stand, but it’s a little hard to get any tractions, suspended in the bushes. She reaches out to grab hold of a branch, struggles upright and stands, and starts patting herself down, brushing snow off. “’S what I get for helping Beth, innit?”

 

_Well, then._

 

Cosima frowns, takes a look around – there’s the ladder crushing part of a bush, the two of them tramping more of the foliage down, and a coiled string of lights lying in the snow. Another mark in the not-a-burgler column, but that doesn’t answer any of Cosima’s questions. She turns back to the woman, jerks a hand toward the entire scene in confusion. “Why were you putting decorations up on my house?”

 

“I live next door,” the woman says, and she begins to mirrior Cosima, arms crossed over her chest and hunched against the snow that seems to be falling a little thicker.  “I always put up the outdoor decorations for Beth, since that’s apparently something her boyfriend doesn’t do.” And then the woman seems to suddenly grow suspicious, frowning at her again and pointing at her accusatorily, through the entire scene is less intimidating than the woman intends it to be since she’s shivering so hard her hand is shaking. “And, excuse me – why are _you_ in Beth’s house?”

 

“I’m her cousin, twice removed.” It’s a long story, and perhaps not hers to tell, and so whether the woman actually believes her (egg donations! Long-lost sisters! Wasted youths!) or takes it as a go-fuck-yourself explanation doesn’t really concern her at the moment. The whole neighbor thing seems to check out, and she doesn’t want to fuck up whatever weird relationship Beth and her neightbor have, so Cosima tromps out of the bushes – some are flattened pretty bad, but whatever – and heads toward the door. “Why don’t you come inside,” she calls over her shoulder, because there's got to be something she can do to make up for this, right?

 

And it’s really no skin off her nose if the woman does or doesn’t follow, because she has work to do. She's just trying to be polite, for Beth's sake. But she’s surprised to find the woman hot on her heels, slipping inside just after she does and closing the door behind herself. “I'm Cosima,” Cosima says, an introduction as she sticks out her hand, the two of them crowding the entryway. The woman takes it, grip strong as she shakes once and lets go with a grin.

 

“Sarah,” she says. And then Sarah walks over to the couch, throws herself down on it like she owns the place, boots carefully placed to avoid touching fabric, and reaches for the remote, looking fit to stay for a good long time.

 

She could use the company because working with eyes on her and under pressure is how she gets things done best, and so Cosima shrugs to herself, shakes her head in disbelief, and walks back to the dining room table. She considers taking her seat again and getting back to work, but detours to the kitchen instead. It takes her a moment to find everything in Beth’s kitchen, but after a shaky start – where are the damn mugs, and why does Beth have a million and one shot-glasses – Cosima gets some cocoa started.

 

“So. Cousins,” Sarah says loudly over the sound of the television. Cosima steps out of the kitchen, narrows her eyes, and retreats back to the kitchen – Sarah flips through channels fast enough to give someone seizures, never settling on one thing for longer than a heartbeat before moving on. “You look like her bloody spitting image. ‘S weird.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Cosima laughs. With the cocoa done, she pours two into mugs, grabs a bag of miniature marshmallow out of a cabinet, tucks it in the crook of her arm, and takes the two mugs and walks over to the living room. She holds one mug out to Sarah without sitting, because she really should be working, for reals this time. “Cocoa?”

 

Sarah looks up at her, looking momentarily surprised before accepting. “Sure.” Cosima motions with her elbow – _here, take some marshmallows!_ – but at that Sarah frowns, holds up her free hand and shakes her head. “None for me, thanks.”

 

“You… don’t like marshmallows in your hot chocolate?” Cosima says slowly, heading back to the table and sitting down. She puts her cocoa down on a coaster, rips open the bag of marshmallows and grabs a handful, dropping them into her mug. Sarah’s missing out, but it does mean more marshmallows for her, which is never a bad thing. It's not cocoa without marshmallows.

 

“No.”

 

Cosima sighs wearily, shakes her head, and wonders exactly what kind of crazy person she’s just invited to hang out with her. But if Beth’s apparently vouched for her, she can overlook the no-marshamllows-for-me-thanks insanity. “Why do you hate love?” she asks, looking up, more of a joke than anything.

 

“I’m just a woman of discriminating taste,” Sarah replies with a licentious grin, winking before she raises her mug and takes a sip of her cocoa, and Cosima rolls her eyes, goes back to her textbook, and can’t help but smile.

 

 

 


	9. Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “our christmas party turned into a tropical theme because the radiator is broken and it’s hotter than hell in here - damn you look good without a shirt i never noticed before asgdhfjgkhl”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

 

 

Sarah had followed Fe to his friend’s party because _it’s not one of those parties, Sarah_ , and when they had reached the apartment and walked in the door, she’d been dutifully impressed, for a house party – music thumping throughout the apartment, a stifling wave of heat that feels like she’s just opened the oven, the slick press of glass as something alcoholic is shoved into her hand, the throngs of people she’d been pushed into by Fe before they’d lost each other in the crowd.

 

And she loves parties, yeah. Booze, grinding, music. It’s all good. But everything tonight pales in comparison as a girl in harem pants and a very tiny crop top settles against the kitchen counter across from her, leaning forward, arms crossed, smiling, and looking like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Where the hell has this one been hiding?

 

“I’m Cosima,” the girl says by way of introduction, smiling blindingly and not even bothering to hold her hand out, and Sarah nods, puts down bottles and glasses and stop pouring drinks because when a woman of that caliber starts talking, you _listen_. Cosima cocks her head, watches her as she bites her lip lightly and then lets go before asking, “Have we met before?”

 

Her type, as Felix likes to say when he’s feeling catty, is simply ‘female’, ‘hot’, and ‘into her’, and Cosima is all of those things. “Haven’t had the pleasure,” Sarah replies, and doesn’t miss the deeply pleased look it gets her. “‘M Sarah,” she says, and motions to the kitchen counter, littered with bottles in various states of emptiness and a mixture of forgotten glasses and plastic cups. “Want a drink?”

 

“I’m good,” Cosima says confidently with a wave of a hand, fingers fluttering. She leans a little closer, elbows on the counter, and Sarah swallows, _tries_ to keep her eyes from flicking down but can’t and, _fuck,_ Cosima probably noticed. And there’s a laugh and something else hidden behind her words as Cosima asks coyly, “You enjoying the party?”

 

“Christmas in July,” Sarah says, and leans a hip against the counter. Even though it is starting to get uncomfortably warm with all the people and drinking and pretty girls talking to her, it’s an original idea. “Summer’s not really my thing,” she admits, and, hell, she goes for it, looks Cosima up and down and meets dark eyes, licks her lips, before continuing. “But I am liking the view.”

 

It takes a moment for the comment to register before Cosima laughs, pushes off from the counter, and Sarah watches as she walks around the counter, very little space left btween them as she comes to stand in front of her. “Yeah, you don’t look like the summer type,” Cosima agrees, and her brow furrows, hands on her hips as Sarah sees, _feels_ , Cosima look her up and down. “Yeah,” Cosima mutters, as if confirming some private thought, and motions at Sarah. “Let me help you?”

 

“By all means,” Sarah says with a sweep of her hands. She’s not really sure where this is going, but she doubts it’s in any direction she won’t enjoy.

 

And Cosima does reach out, smiles as she grasps the lapels of Sarah’s leather jacket and gives a little tug. “I’m digging this look on you,” she says, a little softly, and Sarah leans forward – it’s not exactly quiet around them. Cosima fingers the lapels of her leather jacket, and somehow there’s the smooth pull of her jacket sliding down off her shoulders and down her arms, and Sarah shivers at the feeling of cooling air hitting her as Cosima divests her of her jacket. “But this might be a little more appropriate.”

 

“Yeah,” Sarah agrees dumbly, but luckily her astounding lack of vocabulary doesn’t seem to turn Cosima off. Instead, Cosima grins, steps a little closer, and Sarah feels her jacket settle on her hips, Cosima tying the sleeves loosely in a knot and tugging teasingly before letting go.

 

“Better?” Cosima asks, and Sarah nods, reaches up to run a hand through her hair because if Cosima’s got a thing for punk rock messes then there’s really no better day than today. She’d touched up last-night-slash-this-morning’s make-up after rolling out of bed and thrown on a shirtless tee over skinny jeans when Fe had mentioned a party because, hey, results don’t lie. The look _works_.

 

It’s a little quick, but probably not a leap to tilt her head down – because her boots do put her a little higher than Cosima – to reach out and run fingertips along the curve of Cosima’s jaw, to watch eyes flutter shut and Cosima breathe in in anticipation.

 

She can’t help it but smirk into the kiss which means it doesn’t last very long, but when she does pull away Cosima sways toward her, eyes opening slowly, and Sarah lets her hand drop to Cosima’s shoulder, steadies her and looks around.

 

“Much better,” Sarah agrees, looking around quickly, and, ah, that’s why they haven’t been bothered – she’d been pouring drinks all night, doing her best to get everyone trashed, and no one’s interrupted them since Cosima’s shown up. She catches sight of Felix, who’s missing a shirt but wearing a lei and giving her an ironic thumbs-up, strategically blocking the entryway to the kitchen, before snapping back to Cosima. “Do you, uh, wanna move somewhere a lil’ more private?” and asks, and watches Cosima smile, feels arms slip around her waist.

 

“It’s my party, so I don’t have any place to go,” Cosima says, sounding surprisingly cheerful. She takes a step closer, hips pressing against Sarah’s, and Sarah swallows. “Last time I checked, someone was using my room. And my bathroom.”

 

“Pity,” Sarah agrees thickly, and, as nonchalantly as possible, shrugs, meets dark-rimmed eyes and is surprised at how much what Cosima says next might just make her night. “I know a place, if that’s not out of the question,” she offers tentatively, and almost before she’s finished speaking Cosima’s nodding sagely, as if Sarah has just proposed a very good idea.

 

“I think they can handle the rest of the night without us,” Cosima agrees, and she slips away from Sarah which is a _drag_ , but Cosima grabs her hand instead, tugs, and smiles like she can’t wait which, _fuck yeah_ , Cosima is definitely her type. “Lead the way, hot stuff.”

 

 

 


	10. Knit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I KNITTED YOU A JUMPER" // "MY MOM KNITTED YOU A JUMPER”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

 

 

Even though it’s ten in the morning, she’s still sitting in bed, getting over what feels like the fourth cold since winter started, when Sarah pokes her head through the doorway.

 

“You up for company?” she ask cautiously, and it’s a legit question. The blinds are still half-closed, and Cosima's still in her pajamas, dreds pulled back in a messy bun with a hair-tie she’s scrounged from somewhere off the floor. Cosima sniffs, tosses the used tissue at the overflowing trashcan placed near the bed, and sits up a little, leans forward and taps the trackpad on her laptop to pause the show she’d been watching. Looking up, there is Sarah leaning heavy against the doorway, hair pulled back in a loose braid, and looking extremely kiss-able. Unfortunately, there’s the whole snotty coughing thing going on in her body right now, and so Cosima only nods, voice rough from constantly clearing her throat.

 

“Yeah. I’m a hot mess right now, though.”

 

“’S okay,” Sarah says comfortingly with a smile, and she disappears for a moment, Cosima waiting in confusion, until Sarah suddenly walks back into their shared room, hands held behind her back, and followed by Kira.

 

“Come on, monkey,” Sarah prompts, approaching the bed, and at that Kira grins, crawling up onto the bed, one hand clutching something. Cosima reaches out, takes Kira’s free hand and helps her up, and lets go as Kira settles next to her, back to the pillow, and grins up at her. “Show Auntie Cosima what you made.”

 

Kira holds out something with both hands, and Cosima feels a lump form in her throat, swallowing thickly, as Kira hands her her creation. “It’s a scarf,” Kira explains proudly, and Cosima smiles, nods, reaches up and drapes the mutl-colored piece of fabric loosely around her neck immediately. The stitching is pretty good for a little kid, even if some sections are a tad wider than others, and the best part is the way all the different colors blend into one scarf.

 

She’s definitely _never_ going to take it off. Cosima leans to the side, wraps an arm around Kira’s shoulders and squeezes lightly. “Thank you so much, Kira,” she says. “It’s so warm. Did you make this one all by yourself?”

 

Kira nods thoughtfully, occupied with burrowing under the blankets with Cosima – and Cosima tries not to jump as, even through her pajama pants, she feels freezing little toes brush against her calf as Kira snuggles close under her arm. “Yeah. And mummy knitted you a jumper because you’re always cold.”

 

Cosima looks up sharply, watches Sarah grin sheepishly. “Did she?” Cosima asks, surprised. Not that Sarah’s incapable of kind gestures – because that is the furthest thing from the truth – but because she had no idea Sarah knew how to knit. It’s very much an Alison type of skill, and seeing her incredulous look, Sarah shrugs.

 

“Tried,” Sarah says, a caveat, and she brings out whatever she’s been holding behind her back this whole time, unfolds the sweater and holds it up by the shoulders. Cosima reaches out and takes it, finds a sweater that’s expertly made, a dark maroon color with a band of design across the middle that looks very appropriate for winter holidays.

 

“Wow, Sarah,” Cosima can’t help but breathe, and Sarah smiles again, a hint of pride there as she moves to sit down on the other side of the bed.

 

“Well, Mrs. S helped us both. A lot.”

 

At that, Kira giggles, holds up a hand as if to say _no-way-Jose_ , and exclaims, “Not me!”

 

“True,” Sarah agrees slowly, and Cosima laughs along with her as Sarah reaches out, drags Kira towards her with a play growl as Kira starts to shriek with laughter. “Not you, monkey, huh?” Sarah asks, tickling her mercilessly, leaning forward to squish her nose against Kira's, and she skillfully avoids a flailing hand and and kisses Kira's cheek over the sounds of Kira shrieking with laughter.

 

“I made it all by myself!” Kira says breathlessly, once she's wriggled out of Sarah’s grasp and crawled across the bed to put some distance between them, and Cosima watches with amusement as Sarah takes Kira’s place lazily, leaning against the headboard next to her as Kira crawls off the bed, deposed. Hands rest behind Sarah's head, arms raised comfortably, and Sarah toes off her boots, letting them fall with twin _thumps_ to the floor. 

 

“She did,” Sarah assures her, and then turns to Kira. “But Mrs. S, she’s still gotta teach you how to make pompoms, yeah? Why don’t you go downstairs and ask her to help,” she suggests. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

 

It’s clearly something she’s been looking forwad to, and Kira has only to think about it for a heartbeat. “Okay,” she agrees eagerly, and waves a goodbye to Cosima before slipping out the bedroom door.

 

Suddenly alone together, Cosima looks down, studies the sweater in her hands, and then pulls it over her head and tugs it down, rearranges her dreds and glasses and the scarf around her neck once the sweater’s in place. She wonders briefly how Sarah knows her measurements, and then almost laughs at the ridiculousness of the thought. “So, how do I look?” she asks expectantly, turning to Sarah.

 

Sarah’s gaze is warm, silent as she looks her up and down, but her smile seems to hold back a laugh, too. “You look like you’re ready to go to Antarctica,” Sarah finally admits, and Cosima has to agree that she is now comfortably warm. Sarah waves a hand dismissively in the air, breaks her gaze and mutters, “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

 

But Cosima only crosses her arms, as if Sarah's going to try to wrestle the sweater away, and shakes her head for emphasis. She’ll treasure this until it falls apart, for sure. “You couldn’t get it off me if you tried."

 

A gleam of something flicks across Sarah's face at that, and she smiles, eyeteeth prominent, as she leans closer. “Wanna bet?” 

 

And Cosima reaches out, but instead of pulling Sarah closer, holds a hand to her shoulder, keeping her a stiff arm’s length away as she asks, grinning, “Don’t you have pompoms to make?”

 

It takes a second for her promise to Kira to register, and then Sarah shoots back, "Tease."  But it’s said with a half-smile, and Cosima watches as Sarah heaves herself up off the bed, sticks her hands in her pockets and heads for the door. “Come down soon, yeah?" she asks softly, and Cosima nods, kicks away the blankets in a hurry and pops on her slippers because Sarah adds - "We’re making waffles and if you don't hurry Kira'll eat 'em all.”

 

 

 


End file.
